Turns out the hail storm on Monday has generated lots of interest in the neighborhood by roofers. I've hung up on a dozen cold calls from folks who will "be in the neighborhood" - but I see a roofing sign in the yard next door. She said theirs is 20 years old (I remember watching the installation, I hadn't been here long.) Mine is 18 years old. I suppose I should have the insurance company take a look. The storm that really clobbered things was about five years ago, with tennis-ball-sized hail, but perhaps golf-ball-sized hail this time finished the job. I paid for a hurricane-resistant shingle to get some extra savings on my insurance. No insurance companies are going to stick around in the state if they have to replace roofs too often.

Wasps hovering around the front porch appear to be free agents, drifting from soffit to speck of paint on the wall, looking for anyone to offer them a place to anchor and start building.

I have a set of pet steps I picked up at Goodwill to use for Zeke to get into his chair, but we never deployed them. My friend who is in town this week has an elderly Schnauzer who might be able to use them, so on her way out of town this afternoon they'll hopefully stop by and stuff them into her daughter's car. No way I'm letting either of the two dogs here now sleep on my bed so I won't use it. (The rule is "if you're going to sleep on the bed you stay put and sleep" but these guys think they're guard dogs and get up and race out into the yard to bark, then want to come back onto the bed. Nope.)